“Correct,” I said. “But she’s also one signed helmet away from the collection of her dreams.”
An incredulous laugh bubbled out of him then. “I’ll book flights. I’ve got miles. We can be there and back in time for dinner and a movie, which is what you’ll owe me for talking sense into your head.”
“No.”
“Nicole—”
“No,” I repeated. “I’ve been looking for this thing for years. Years. You don’t just appear in Arkansas and leave with it. Youearn it. You drive. You eat bad gas station snacks. You listen to questionable road trip playlists. This is how it’s done.”
He watched me for a long moment, something like admiration creeping into his expression whether he liked it or not.
“You really want to do this?”
“Yes.”
“With me.”
“Yes.”
Another pause. Then a slow grin. “You’re serious.”
“Deadly.”
He shook his head, laughing under his breath. “A last-minute, ten-hour road trip. This is insane.”
“Hopelessly,” I said. “So?”
He glanced toward his bedroom, then back at me. “Give me five minutes. I gotta throw some stuff in a bag.”
I punched the air, beside myself with excitement as he disappeared into his bedroom.
*
The highway rolled out before us in a ribbon of gray, sunlight turning everything gold against the windshield. I had my bag at my feet, snacks within reach, and a cooler wedged between us. Landon kept looking over, smirking like he was trying not to laugh at how wound up I was about staying on schedule.
“Careful coming up on that exit,” I said.
“I see it,” he replied, voice clipped, eyes locked on the road. He didn’t need me reminding him.
We fell into a rhythm fast enough that the first hour disappeared without notice—me scrolling playlists, himmuttering about volume levels. I vetoed more than a few songs, and he sulked like a kid who’d lost his favorite toy. Eventually, we compromised with rock-paper-scissors. It was a silly system, but it worked.
A couple of hours in, nature demanded attention.
“Landon… uh, can you pull over?”
He glanced at me, eyebrows raised. “Pull over? What’s wrong? Car sick?”
“No,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “Just… pull over.”
“But we’re making good time. We’re not supposed to swap for another hour.”
He was talking, but I barely heard him. My cheeks warmed. “I… just do it, okay?”
“How about I crack a win—?”
“We’re forty minutes from the next gas station, and I can’t hold it anymore. Happy?” I groaned, sinking deeper into the passenger seat.
“Wait. You mean… you need to pee?”
